


Failure to Communicate

by CaptAcorn



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptAcorn/pseuds/CaptAcorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An away mission goes awry (don't they always?), but it gives Tom and Chakotay an opportunity to clear the air. P/T implied. Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon consistent look at the relationship between Tom and Chakotay. No B'Elanna, but it's a P/T story all the way. You could consider this an "episode" that takes place between Scientific Method and The Year of Hell (early season 4). All standard disclaimers about me not owning anything apply.

"Did you have something to say, Lieutenant?"

Tom Paris considered how best to answer this, as he was essentially trapped under the busted nav console he was working on and couldn't escape quickly if the need arose. A few weeks ago, it wouldn't have been such a loaded question, but his relationship with the first officer seemed to have soured recently.

The problem was, Tom had no idea why. Sure, when Voyager was first stuck in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay thought of him as the traitorous drunken mercenary he'd hired to fly for the Maquis. And then, of course, there was the time the Captain used Tom to flush out Jonas, and pushing Chakotay's buttons had been (a not unwelcome, to be honest) part of his cover. There was also the fact that the first officer took everything so damn seriously, and Tom… Actually, Tom took a fair number of things seriously, but he preferred that as few people knew that as possible. When people thought you didn't give a shit, it was a lot harder to disappoint them. But that attitude meant he butted heads with Chakotay on a regular basis. Really, he thought, chuckling to himself, why shouldn't the first officer hate his guts?

But Chakotay, as inflexible and humorless as he could be at times, was nothing if not ridiculously fair. And so after over three years of working together, and Tom not fucking up overly badly or often, he and the commander had…well, no one would call it a friendship, but certainly a cordial working relationship. Until the last few weeks.

"I'm talking to you, Paris!"

Discretion being the better part of valor, it was probably best that Tom not tell Chakotay what he had just muttered under his breath in frustration. Yup, definitely better to keep his mouth shut. Or just claim he hadn't said anything of consequence.

"I said," Tom called out loudly, apparently possessed by a stupider version of himself, "Why don't we just take them out and find out whose is biggest once and for all?" Hmm. A stupider version of himself with a deathwish, no less.

A shadow passed over him, and Tom could have sworn the shuttle floor sank a few centimeters under Chakotay's greater weight. "Excuse me, Mr. Paris?" It sounded like the man chewed up the words and spit out the remains.

Mind whirring as to how to backpedal as efficiently as possible, Tom slowly contorted his upper body until it was out from under the console and held up the tool in his hand for Chakotay to see. "The hyperspanners. If you have a larger one, it might be better for this repair." _See, Self, this is why you stopped drinking so much. It's a lot easier to talk yourself out of trouble when you're sober._ Tom regarded the man looming over him with the most innocent expression he could muster. "What did you think I was talking about?"

Chakotay glared at him, eyes narrowed. Then, fortunately for Tom, he decided that this wasn't a fight worth pursuing and walked away with a grunt and a gesture towards the tool kit.

Tom made a face at his commander's retreating back, and extricated the rest of his tall frame out from beneath the console. As he switched out the hyperspanner in his hand for the larger one in the kit, he cursed his best friend's name for what must have been the tenth time in the past hour. Because it really was all Harry's fault that he was stuck on this stupid ill-fated mission in this stupid broken-down shuttle with his stupid grumpy XO as his only company for the foreseeable future. First of all, Harry was the one who noticed this little out of the way L class planet that _might_ have significant amounts of a mineral that was _maybe_ similar enough to gallicite to be usable. Second of all, he was also the one that said the storms over the continent of interest were bad enough to warrant sending Voyager's best pilot out with the first officer to do the initial survey. Third, he was the one who _didn't_ notice that the storms produced weird, electrified hailstones the size of baseballs. They were like lightning bolts in boulder form, and they beat the crap out of the _Sacajawea_ \- both the hull and her computer systems. Fun times.

So they weren't even supposed to land on the planet, and Tom was supposed to be back in plenty of time for his date with B'Elanna; instead he spent a tense fifteen minutes trying to dodge lightning rocks with a failing navigation system. Landing the shuttle had been so difficult that he was grateful just to get them on the ground with no significant injuries and the _Sacajawea_ not irreparably damaged.

One would think his passenger would feel the same way. One would think his passenger would in fact be appreciative of the level of skill his pilot needed to possess in order to get them safely out of that mess. One would think that appreciation would translate to a certain level of civility and forbearance. One would be wrong on seemingly all counts.

It started out as a comment on his choice of landing site, ( _Like I had a choice!_ Tom thought to himself). Perhaps the Lieutenant could have chosen a spot that wasn't directly in the center of the still raging storm? Then it became a critique of which repairs Tom chose to prioritize. Is there some reason the Lieutenant thinks that having navigation would be helpful when the sensors are still off line? Then it was the _way_ Tom was working. If the Commander wanted to listen to the Lieutenant's singing, he'd be sure to let him know. When Chakotay then asked him how he managed to make the hyperspanner emit such an annoying whine, Tom had just about had it. That's when his frustrated muttering started. For Christ's sake, it was like it was their first week in the Delta Quadrant all over again.

Tom was debating the wisdom of asking the man if there was some specific reason for the stick up his ass, just to finally get it out in the open and consequences be damned, when Chakotay barked another order at him, "Paris! I think I've found all the fried relays. Check to see if sensors are functioning."

"Aye, sir," Tom said, as he un-pretzeled himself from beneath the console once again. _Because God forbid you walk the two meters across the shuttle to check yourself. It's not like I'm doing anything important over here, trying to fix the systems that actually make this thing fly._ Tom tapped a few buttons on the sensor display. "Yup, you've got 'em. Short range and long range sens... Fuck!"

"Language, Paris! You're a Starfleet officer!"

"Yeah, well, we're both going to be pancakes in about five minutes if we don't get out of here!" Tom yelled back at him as he started grabbing what equipment he could. "The rock face immediately above us just got hit by a 2 meter wide lightning...rock...thing. It's unstable and could collapse anytime!"

"Shit," Chakotay said, and grabbed a nearby medkit. Tom successfully fought an urge to point out the other man's cursing, the threat of imminent death generally being an effective deterrent to smart ass comments. They both paused at the rear hatch of the shuttle.

"It's not much safer for us out there than it is in here," Tom said to the older man.

"I'll take possible death over almost certain death any day, wouldn't you?" Chakotay responded. "Let's go."

_That's the most civil thing he's said to me in days_ , Tom thought absently as he helped the commander manually open the hatch. The two men stepped out into the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

Fortunately for the stranded officers, most of the hailstones burned up and released their bolts of electricity well before they reached the lower elevation where Tom had landed the  _Sacajawea_. Chakotay glanced at his tricorder and pointed to a clump of trees a couple dozen meters away. "There's some stable rock formations beyond those trees!" he yelled over the roaring wind and rain. "We should be able to get temporary shelter there!"

Tom stumbled badly when a bolt of electricity hit the ground a few meters behind him, but both men made it safely to a semi-sheltered area next to a large boulder. Tom heard a loud crash just as he crouched down next to Chakotay, and turned to see a large chunk of the rock face crush their shuttle.

"Damn," he panted. "There goes another one."

"We'll be able to salvage it once the storm passes," Chakotay said, breathing just as heavily. "Good thing I decided to prioritize sensor repairs."

 _Good God, Chakotay, give it a rest_ , Tom thought, all the more annoyed because the other man had been right. Using a near Herculean strength of will, he kept his reply to a strangled, "Yes sir. Good thing."

The First Officer started scanning the area with his tricorder. "Our communicators won't work in this storm; Voyager won't be able to get a lock on us until it passes and this boulder isn't providing much shelter. We've got to find someplace safer, preferably higher ground, until we can contact the ship."

"If we go higher up, we're going to be at more risk for getting hit by the lightning."

"Not if we're in a cave, of which there are plenty around. Maybe you noticed the granite-type formations all around us? If we stay here, we could get stuck in a flash flood." Chakotay said. Despite being the primary target, Tom found himself impressed that the man could convey condescension so clearly even when he had to yell to be heard over the weather. "I thought your father taught survival classes at the Academy. But I guess Admirals' sons get a pass no matter how little they manage to learn. Let's get a move on, Lieutenant."

Tom felt his nails dig into his palms as his hands clenched into fists.  _For someone who purports to be so fucking centered and above it all, he sure knows where to put the knife in when he wants to_ , he fumed internally as started to follow Chakotay up a narrow ledge in the cliff face above them.

Tom never fully bought into Chakotay's calm and wise mentor routine - not when Chakotay first approached him for flying for the Maquis (the then-rebel leader had tried to get him to fly for them as some sort of moral imperative before he offered money. Like the Greater Good angle was ever going to work on the continuously inebriated post-dishonorable discharge Tom Paris) and not on Voyager, either.

Not too terribly long ago, he'd accidentally walked in on one of the XO's boxing sessions on the holodeck. He'd left when he realized his mistake - Chakotay had forgotten to put on the privacy lock - but not before he had seen a glimpse of the older man's face as he pummeled his holographic opponent. It was just a simple recreational hologram - nothing like the Doctor's sophisticated program - but it was still disturbing for Tom to see how much pleasure Chakotay seemed to take in beating the photons out of the thing. It was right after the dust up with Species 8472 - and right after the Captain had agreed to the alliance with the Borg expressly against Chakotay's recommendation. It had been no secret to anyone that the command team was on the outs for awhile. Tom knew when he saw Chakotay boxing that day that the angry Maquis captain was still alive and well, just buried under a well-maintained but very thin facade.

"Let's aim for that cave ten more meters up and to the left! The rocks around it look stable!" the commander called back to him, cutting into the pilot's musings.  _Great. A small cramped space, a thunder storm, and my superior officer that hates me. This day can't get any better._ The ledge was getting steeper, and Tom had to start using his hands to stabilize himself. The rocks were slippery, too, with the rain; but Tom was grateful that there was enough of a physical challenge to distract him from his burgeoning resentment.

After several more minutes of slow progress up the rock face, Tom saw a small shower of debris and pebbles come hurtling towards him, likely knocked loose by the larger man's climb. He was pressing his face to his arm to shield his eyes when he heard a loud crack and a yell. He looked up towards the direction of the sound, but the rain was coming harder now, pelting him in the face, and he could barely make out the ledge ahead of him. "Commander!" he called out, "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Watch yourself! Part of the ledge wasn't stable! I fell when it gave out!" Tom could tell the commander was a little ahead and below him. He could also tell from the strain in the other man's voice that he must be injured. He inched his way forward on the ledge until he could see a gap in the rocks.

"I'm coming down for you!" Tom called to him.

"Don't! It's not safe! The last thing we need is for us both to get injured!"

 _Oh, stop being so damn noble all the time_ , Tom thought, as he made the choice to ignore the XO and start a controlled slide down the rock face. "What's that, Commander? I didn't catch that last thing you said!" Best not to be too obvious when blatantly disregarding orders.

"Damn it, Paris! I told you to stay up there!" Chakotay's face was contorted in a rictus of pain when Tom reached the broad flat rock that had stopped the commander's fall.

"Sorry, Commander, didn't hear that part - the wind. Did you manage to hang onto the medkit?" he asked as he did a visual inspection of the older man.

"Most of it," he responded from behind gritted teeth. "It banged open when I fell, so I don't know if I lost anything."

Tom reached beside the other man and pulled out the case. "Not terrible, but not great. We still have a medical tricorder, a splint, and the regenerators, but no hyposprays and we lost all the meds. I don't have anything to give you for the pain."

"I'll be fine," he said in a clipped tone.

Tom rolled his eyes as he took out the tricorder from the kit, "Yeah, you sound just peachy." He moved the wand up and down Chakotay's right leg and confirmed his suspicion. "You've got a transverse fracture of your tibia and fibula, but the good news is it's not displaced. Anything else hurt?"

"Nothing terrible. Leg's the worst by far."

"There's another gap in the rocks just a few meters that way," Tom pointed. "That should do as shelter for us until we can get in touch with Voyager. I'm going to put the splint on your leg for now, and regenerate the fracture once we get under cover." Tom got to work adjusting the splint to fit the commander's leg. Once it was in place and Chakotay was upright again, Tom did his best to take on the bulk of the other man's weight so he could keep it off the fractured leg. "You're like the biggest vegetarian I've ever met," he grunted.

Chakotay ignored the comment. "You heard me, Paris, admit it. You knew I told you to stay up on the ledge."

"So what if I did, Chakotay?" Tom said, puffing with exertion. Did he say a few meters? It was feeling like fifty right now. "I wasn't going to leave you on a cliff with broken leg, exposed, in an electrical storm."

"I gave you a direct order!" Chakotay barked.

"Can we talk about this later?" Tom panted. "I'm a little busy here."

Tom gratefully lowered the commander to the ground as soon as they reached the gap in the rocks. There was a large-ish open area beyond. Not exactly home sweet home, but it would do for a few hours while they waited out the storm. "The entrance is too low for me to help you in. You're going to have slide in the rest of the way by yourself."

"Admit you ignored my order," Chakotay looked daggers at him.

"Seriously?" Tom said in exasperation. "Can we at least get out of the rain first? Fine, I ignored your order. For all the reasons I just said. You can put me on report when we're back on the ship. Now will you please move into the cave?"

"We have a chain of command for a reason, Paris! I expect you to follow my orders, no matter what you think of them!"

 _This is fucking ridiculous_ , Tom thought, the pouring rain and cold wind only feeding his anger. "You sure like spouting off regulations a lot for someone who turned his back on Starfleet years ago!" Tom snapped.

"And you sure break a lot of them for someone who was practically born with an insignia branded on his chest!" Chakotay threw back.

Tom had reached his limit. "You don't have the first clue-"

"Paris! Watch out!" Chakotay yelled suddenly.

Tom turned to see one of the hailstones hurtling towards him. Without thinking, Tom put out his left hand to shield his face. He was rewarded with a blinding pain that traveled up his arm as it made contact. And then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do they manage to always have away missions only on planets with extensive cave systems? In my head, this planet looks a lot like the Polar Cave Park in NH, which I visited this summer. Fun for the kids!

The next thing Tom was aware of was the feeling of sharp rocks digging into his back. The ground was moving, too. Was it an earthquake?  _Man, this planet sucks,_  was the first coherent thought he managed.

"Tom! TOM!" The pilot opened his eyes to see the First Officer's face hovering over his. The bigger man was shaking him by the shoulders.

"It stopped raining," Tom said wonderingly.

Chakotay sat back with a grunt. "We're in the cave, Paris. I dragged you into the cave."

Tom started to sit up, but let out a yelp when he tried to use his left hand. He pushed himself up the rest of the way using his right arm only, hissing in pain. "What the hell happened?" he asked as he examined his hand. It looked like one of Neelix's less successful experiments for "Down Home BBQ Night!" last month.

"You tried to play handball with one of those electrified hailstones. The shock knocked you unconscious. You're lucky it was a small one. Any bigger it might have stopped your heart." As Chakotay pulled away to give Tom some space, his face contracted in a grimace.

"Shit, your leg. Where's the medkit? I'll regenerate the bone." Tom jumped up, and nearly scraped his head against the low ceiling of the cavern. He was feeling strangely energized despite the pain in his hand.

"I left it by the entrance," Chakotay gestured. "But take a minute, Paris; you were just unconscious. And maybe you should treat your hand first. It looks pretty bad."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" he said as a grabbed the kit. "I can barely feel it! Your leg probably hurts a lot more." He started fumbling at the splint he'd put on the commander's leg with his good hand. Chakotay reached out and held his arm.

"Why don't you let me get that?" Chakotay said.

Once the splint was off, Tom immediately started running the osteoregenerator over Chakotay's leg. He cursed inwardly when he realized he couldn't get even his uninjured hand to stop shaking.

"Paris."

Tom stared at the regenerator in his hand, willing it to stop trembling so damn much.

"Tom," the commander said. "It's OK."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's fine. This thing works even if it's shaking some," Tom babbled. "It's pretty forgiving of operator error. If you ask the Doc pretty much any medical instrument I touch has to be forgiving of operator error. Your bone will be healed in a minute."

"No," Chakotay replied. "I mean it's OK to feel a little unsettled. Given what just happened to you. It was a close call."

"That?" Tom snorted. "That was nothing! You're talking to the guy that hyper-evolved into a salamander and spit out his own tongue! A little storm isn't going to freak me out. I'm fine! It's just a minor burn. And we're safe now. Here in this cave."  _This very dark and tiny cave._  Tom realized distantly that his chest was feeling very tight.

"Paris? Tom!" Chakotay's voice was tinny in his ears. "Why don't you go closer to the entrance? Get a little more air."

Tom stumbled toward the opening, black creeping in on the edges of his vision. He knelt down just inside the cave, taking gasping breaths. As his breathing slowed and his chest loosened, he felt Chakotay's presence behind him.

"Feeling better?" the XO said, not unkindly.

"Yeah, thanks," Tom sat back on his heels. "I'm fine. I, uh, just have a touch of claustrophobia."

"A touch?" Chakotay said, eyebrow raised.

"It's not usually this bad," Tom explained, looking out into the wilderness. "It's more being confined than small spaces by themselves. But sometimes, if I'm feeling stressed about something else…"

"Like nearly being electrocuted?" Chakotay gave Tom a small smile.

"Yeah, that would count," Tom smiled back at him.  _Well,_  Tom considered,  _if Chakotay nearly getting me killed gets him to ease up a little, this all might have been worth it._ "You should let me scan your leg. Make sure the bone's healed enough to put weight on it."

Tom opened the medical tricorder and rested it on the ground so that he could use the wand with his good hand. "It's weird, you know?" He still felt a little manic, though no longer like his heart was beating out of his chest. "I've been in plenty of hairier situations than this. But this time… it's different. Scarier somehow." Tom paused in his scan, and let out a little laugh. "Maybe it's because I finally have something to lose."

"Oh yeah," Chakotay said, "What's that?" The commander's tone suddenly seemed a few degrees cooler, but Tom decided he must be imagining it.

"B'Elanna, of course," he replied. "Not that I don't hold the rest of the crew in the highest esteem," he said with a wink, "But now, with B'Elanna - and don't tell Harry this - it's different. More, somehow. Sorry, I'm not really explaining myself very well. Maybe it's the whole being hit by lightning thing."

"You're explaining yourself just fine," Chakotay muttered.

"I keep telling her the two of us need to design a better shuttle," Tom continued, starting up the scan of the other man's leg again. "Something that can take a beating. A  _Delta_ quadrant beating. These old type 6 and 8 shuttles were fine back in the Alpha quadrant, but it's a whole new ball-"

"Spirits, Paris!" Chakotay barked, "Do you ever shut the hell up?"

Startled, Tom dropped the tricorder wand in the dirt. His mind did a rapid replay of the last few minutes, searching for something that he could have said to trigger the XO's wrath. But he hadn't really said anything of significance since coming to, all he'd done was blather on about B'Elanna.

B'Elanna.

Chakotay's surly attitude had started around the time they discovered those aliens hiding on Voyager, poking and prodding them with their secret experiments. Which, not coincidentally since they'd been making out all over the ship, was the same time Tom and B'Elanna's relationship had become common knowledge amongst the crew. Tom felt his resentment flare.  _Oh, fuck you, Chakotay_.

Tom slowly replaced the wand back into the tricorder and snapped it shut with his good hand. "So that's it, then? This is about B'Elanna?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Chakotay struggled to his feet, and made his slow way deeper into the cave, leaning heavily on the rocks around him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly.

Tom refused to back down. "Bullshit. You've been treating me like a piece of dog crap under your shoe for weeks now and it's been ever since B'Elanna and I started dating. So what is it, Chakotay? Are you jealous? Do you want her for yourself? You had your chance." Angry and fed up, his hand throbbing, he went in for the kill. "Although I know your tastes run a little more…  _Cardassian._ "

"You're out of line, Lieutenant!" Chakotay bellowed.

Back when Tom first threw his lot in with the Maquis, Seska had told him that she had watched Chakotay snap the neck of a lower level Cardassian gul with his bare hands. At the time, Tom assumed it was a story she made up as a bit of hazing or perhaps to scare him off, but right now, looking at the commander's enraged expression, he could believe it. He must have been channeling his new girlfriend, though, because Tom returned his glare with interest.

"Say what you want to say to me,  _Commander_ , or back the hell off. You have plenty of reasons to hate me. I'm well aware of that. But I am sick and tired of you undermining me, and belittling me, and treating me like human garbage, especially when it's because you don't like who I'm dating. So let's be done with this once and for all!" In a small corner of his mind, Tom recognized he was near screaming at a superior officer. He didn't care. It would be worth a month in the brig just to get an honest fucking reaction from the man.

"You're not good enough for her!" Chakotay roared at him. "She's the closest thing I have to family out here, Paris. And if you think I'm going to let you use her..." Chakotay's voice took on a quieter, but no less menacing tone. "I've known her since right after she dropped out of the Academy. She was like one giant raw nerve, always pretending she was so tough and invincible. But deep down I could tell she was just a hurt, terrified kid."

Chakotay suddenly came at the pilot, drawing himself up to his full height despite the low ceiling and his injured leg. He grabbed the front of Tom's uniform. Tom blinked but didn't back away. "She's been let down by every important person in her life, me included. And she doesn't deserve for it to happen again. She doesn't deserve to be just another conquest. You are not good enough for her!" He took several panting breaths and released Tom's jacket. "You're not good enough," he repeated softly.

"I know that," Tom said, just as softly. "You think I don't know that?" He met Chakotay's stare head on. "But here's the thing. It doesn't matter what you think. Hell, it doesn't even matter what I think. I'd say she's a big girl now, Chakotay, but that's not what she is. What she is, is an incredibly smart, and incredibly strong, adult. One who is fully capable of deciding for herself who's good enough. God only knows why she thinks that's me, but she does."

Tom closed his eyes, and pictured B'Elanna's face, gathering resolve from the image. "She isn't that scared kid anymore, Chakotay, and she doesn't need your protection. She'd probably like your support, but she doesn't even really need that. I'm not going to say that I'll never let her down, because if I'm being honest with myself, I know I will. But I'm going to try very very hard not to. And I'm going to take care of her - not because she needs me to, but because she wants me to. Just like she takes care of me. So like I said, Chakotay - back the hell off."

Tom retreated as far away from the other man as he could in the small space, trying to regain his composure. Lost in thought, he was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder several minutes later.

"You should let me treat your hand," the older man said quietly. "C'mon and sit down."

Tom silently followed him to the better light at the entrance of their temporary shelter and sat as directed. He stared at his mangled hand as the commander took it gently in his, and passed the dermal regenerator over the burns.

"You love her," Chakotay said. A statement, not a question. "I didn't realize. I thought it was… something else."

"Now you know," Tom said, still staring at his injured hand and refusing to look at the other man.

"You understand her, too," Chakotay continued. "A lot better than I do these days. She's been telling me for months to give her some breathing room. That I'm not her father."

"Good thing for you, actually," Tom replied flatly. "She doesn't have a very high opinion of him."

Chakotay snorted. "No, I suppose she doesn't." He stopped the regenerator. "It seems like this has done all it can. Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah," Tom shrugged. "But that's probably a good thing. Means the nerves are intact. The Doc can do a better job in sickbay. It'll be fine."

Chakotay gave a deep sigh. "Tom, can you look at me?"

"Yes, sir." Eyes trained straight ahead, looking somewhere over Chakotay's left shoulder.

"I said, 'Tom,' not 'Lieutenant,'" Chakotay said, irritation touching the edge of his words. "And I'm trying to apologize." He took another deep breath. "You're right. I haven't been treating you very well these last few weeks. And you're right that it's because you and B'Elanna are together. And it wasn't fair. What the two of you do off duty - it's none of my business. Having said that, I hope it works out - for both of you."

Tom considered how much it had taken for this man - this very proud and sometimes still very angry man - to apologize for being unfair to a junior officer. And not just any junior officer, but Tom Paris - who in Chakotay's eyes, (as far as Tom could tell), was the living, breathing epitome of everything that was wrong with Starfleet, the Federation, and human beings in general. He really should throw the poor guy a bone.

"I hope so, too," Tom finally said. "I guess, since it was coming from a good place, I have to forgive you." He grinned at the older man. "And as a show of good faith, I won't tell B'Elanna about any of this."

"Thanks," Chakotay returned the grin. "Although I suspect you're doing that just so you don't have to visit her in the brig after she rips out my still beating heart." Chakotay leaned back against the rocks behind him and looked out of the cave towards the sky. "It looks like we're going to be here for a couple more hours at least. I wish I had thought to grab some food before the shuttle got crushed."

"Well, Commander, despite outward appearances, today's your lucky day," Tom declared. "I never travel completely empty handed - especially when Neelix threatens to pack me a picnic lunch." He dug into his pocket with his good hand. "Voila! Two only slightly crushed ration bars. And I managed to snag the good chocolate ones, too."

Chakotay unwrapped the bars and handed one back to the pilot. "Paris, I'm beginning to like you better already."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hang on, let me make sure I understand all of this. You're saying all those times you called me Chief, or offered to replicate me a bow and arrow, or that racist crap on Ocampa about my tribe being able to fly - you didn't buy into any of it? You were being offensive on purpose?" Chakotay looked at him in disbelief. The two men still sat across from each other at the cave entrance, watching the end of the storm.

Tom scratched his forehead absently, "Pretty much."

"And you were doing this because you knew I already didn't like you? And you figured it'd be easier to live up, or down, to my poor opinion? And also because you knew that on some level I would feel guilty for disliking someone that saved my life, and that  _amused_  you?"

Tom nodded slowly, "Yeah, that about hits the nail on the head."

Chakotay just gaped at him. "That is the most fucked up thing I have ever heard."

Tom met Chakotay's incredulous stare for a moment before all the tension of the past several hours released itself in an outburst of laughter. "You don't even know the half of it!"

Chakotay soon found Tom's escalating mirth contagious and was unable to stop a sudden explosive guffaw. "Seriously, what does B'Elanna see in you?" His body started to shake uncontrollably.

Tom was now wheezing in between hysterical giggles, tears streaming down his face. "I...have no...idea!" he gasped out.

Chakotay fell onto his side, convulsing with laughter. "Well, she is an engineer! Maybe she thinks she can fix you!"

"Good luck with that!" Tom joined him on the damp ground, helplessly cackling.

Their laughter gradually dying down, the two men lay panting on the rocky soil and looked up at the clearing sky. "How's your hand?" asked Chakotay.

"Hurts." Tom replied simply. "How's your leg?"

"Also hurts," the commander said. "Storm's just about gone. We should be able to contact Voyager anytime now."

"Before we do, Chakotay," Tom looked at the older man. "There's something I want to say." His gaze returned to the sky, suspecting this would be easier if he didn't have to see the commander's expression.

"Go ahead, Tom."

"I want to apologize." He stopped, trying to figure out the best way to say what needed to be said.

"No need. That storm was a bear. Nobody could have flown out of that. To be honest, I probably should be thanking you for getting us down as safely as you did."

"No, not for that. You should be thanking me for that." Tom took a deep breath. "For three years ago. I want to apologize for agreeing to help Janeway find you. In the Badlands." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chakotay prop himself up on his elbows and look at him.

"At Auckland…" Tom paused, not wanting to give too much away but wanting to explain himself. "Things weren't easy for me in prison. And I was as desperate as I'd ever been the day she showed up. But it was never about selling you out. It was just about me getting out. And while I don't regret being on Voyager, getting a second chance like I did; I regret how I got there." Tom hazarded a glance at the other man then. Seeing a serious but not angry expression, he swallowed hard and kept going. "I don't want to pretend that the Maquis' fight was mine. It wasn't. But when I agreed to fly for you - it wasn't just about settling a bar tab. Or getting back at my father. I really admired what you were doing out there."

Chakotay was quiet for a long time after that, staring into the retreating clouds. Tom fought his normal urge to fill tense silences with a stupid joke. His resolve had just about broken when Chakotay finally spoke up.

"Thank you. For telling me that."

"You're welcome." Tom noted a bit nervously that Chakotay still wasn't looking directly at him.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm thrilled with the way you got on Voyager, either, Tom. But... " and he finally looked down where Tom still lay flat on the ground. "I'm glad we've got you."

Tom sat up and turned his gaze towards the horizon, lit up by a sunset made spectacular by the electrified particles still floating in the atmosphere. "We're good, then?"

"We're good," Chakotay replied.

 _Voyager to Chakotay._  Janeway's voice crackled over the commander's combadge.  _Are you gentlemen all right?_

"We're fine, Captain," Chakotay said in response. "A little banged up but glad to hear your voice. The  _Sacajawea_  has seen better days, though."

 _Damn,_  Janeway said, unknowingly echoing Tom's sentiment from a few hours prior.  _Another one?_

Both men burst out laughing again as the transporter beam took them home.

**The End**


End file.
